


A Brat of the Highest Degree

by Virodeil



Series: Caught Is Caught Is Cuddled [21]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: Gen, Lost child found, Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:01:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26747740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virodeil/pseuds/Virodeil
Summary: Loki is not the only disguised jötun in the universe. He is not the only disguised jötun on Earth, at that, during the Battle of New York. He is to be towed home at the end of the battle, and he is, but the home is… different, and the way there, too.
Relationships: Laufey (Marvel) & Loki (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) & Original Character(s)
Series: Caught Is Caught Is Cuddled [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1089204
Comments: 12
Kudos: 81
Collections: The Land of Ice and Snow





	A Brat of the Highest Degree

Author’s notes: My advance apologies if this particular story is unsatisfactory. It was _supposed_ to be just an alternate to another story that is still incomplete. I hope you will enjoy it, still. And if you like a more nuanced reading, I would suggest that you read the list of terms before reading.

List of terms, from the OC’s POV:  
**Dam** : the one who births a child  
**Milaða** : jötun (singular form)  
**Mother** : the one who births _and_ cares for/raises a child  
**Parent** : more a state of nurturing a child than a title of the child’s dam/sire  
**Sire** : the one who donates seed for the child (not necessary, for a species that _also_ has the option for hermaphroditic reproduction)  
**Ýmirheim** : Jötunheim

Started on: 2nd December 2019 at 10:23 PM  
Finished on: 1st October 2020 at 11:51 AM

**O-O-O-O**

Stark Tower, a large, 100-story skyscraper in the heart of Manhattan, New York City, is home not only to Stark International, its owner and its CEO, but also to many international, non-government humanitarian organisations. Doctors Without Borders is one of the organisations lucky enough to boast such a headquarter.

Dr. Tioma, M.Sc., Ph.D., is one of the staff stationed there at a semi-regular basis, partly because they make for a tolerant tennant for the antics of the landlord, one Anthony “Tony” Edward Stark, and partly because of the rich, easy availability of research materials. At times, they – and this doctor is always a “they,” also answering to a “she,” but never a “he” – even help in the medical floor when there is a shortage of personnel, or when there is something secretive the tower’s owner wishes to conduct, or when the said owner needs a sparring partner in wit or muscle.

And today is one of those days, with the extra flavour of an extra-terrestrial invasion.

While most of the tower inhabitants are evacuated elsewhere, or to the bunkers and tunnels under both the tower itself and the Stark Industries warehouse facility just outside of the city proper, Dr. Tioma stays. They have been requested by both their superior in their umbrella organisation and Mr. Stark to aid the civilians to flee the invading army, and to patch the said civilians up whenever they can or it is necessary.

Privately, they have also been requested to do something else by someone else.

**O-O-O-O**

The battle runs short, if devastating for the infrastructure and the people caught in it. Dr. Tioma ushers would-be victims away from collapsing buildings and patches the injuries of some whenever he can. They never stray far from Stark Tower, however. Not because it houses their office and they are supposed to be stationed there, nor because it seems to be the most well-guarded place in all senses of the word, but because their quarry is there.

No, the quarry is not what the humans call the Tessaract, although that Gem has indeed been last in the possession of their people before the power-hungry Bór looted it from the battlefield thousands of years ago. No, the quarry is _much more precious_ than that; for them, for their leader, and for the future of their people alike.

Loptr Laufey-childe: half of the twin firstborn-and-lastborn of Monarch of Ýmirheim Laufey Bergelmir-childe, lost to the Milaðen a millennium, two centuries, ninety-four years and eighteen months ago.

**O-O-O-O**

Bone-freezing fury is what Dr. Tioma feels, when they behold the green-skinned youngster with the mind of a little child – a _cruel, cruel little child_ – repeatedly bashes _a living person_ onto the _hard, hard floor_ on the topmost level of Mr. Stark’s tower. The fury is compounded on the knowledge that _that person is their quarry_.

With a roar of their own, they shed their human-like form and grow to their original size, their original self, twice taller than the green-skinned youngster is, and wrench their quarry away from the tormenter.

They toss the youngster away, afterwards, lightly, lighter than the youngster did to their quarry, lighter than the youngster _deserves_ , and know that the youngster will be fine even as he plummets down the side of the tower.

They shrink back into their human-like guise, then, their “warm weather” form, and scurries rather drunkenly towards their quarry. The heat and illumination of Earth’s sun is somewhat too much for a Milaða in their natural form, but they had no other choice.

And, as they behold their quarry from up close, they acknowledge that the hangover-like pains in their head and body are _worth it_.

Loptr Laufey-childe looks like their dam, with smattering features of their sire. Far more battered and in pain than Laufey Bergelmir-childe except for the day the latter lost the children they carried, but still so similar – in soul, in body, in visage.

Well, in some verbal quirks, too, it turns out, as the doctor finds out while setting to addressing the many physical injuries incurred by the child-in-adolescent-guise, quickly but not hastily, before the owner of this tower and his comrades pour in.

“Should I not worry that I am being treated by a monster? – Ow! Be careful! I need that to breathe! – Ooh, it feels nice. What did you do? Teach me!”

The child is somewhat of a brat, but one that is hard not to grow fond of, with their jumping-from-topic-to-topic chatter and their playful words and their resilience. Quite like their dam indeed, whom this doctor has known long before the said dam had to take up the burdens of the throne that they thought they would never have to sit on, when Laufey Bergelmir-childe was the second child of the ruling Monarch, who was quite convinced that they would become the best travelling healer in the realm.

All things come to an end, still, at some point. And for this mission, the end approaches fast when they sense a group of high-on-adrenaline humans climbing up to this level via the lift system.

So they say to their quarry, “Let us go home, child,” and carry the now-properly-sized, now-alarmed little brat to a particular, particularly high spot in the mountains that the humans now call the Adirondacks, where the said little brat’s dam has been waiting.

Laufey Bergelmir-childe, who is by now an all-too-reserved, all-too-serious monarch more often than not instead of a playful and nurturing parent, let alone an inspired, inspiring would-be travelling healer.

But how glad they feel when the _parent_ receives the child, instead of the _monarch_.

Dr. Tioma, otherwise named Týo Týé-childe, performs the milaða civilian salute to their monarch _and their friend_ with a beaming smile on their face, seeing _that radiant countenance_ that is now rarer than the rarest Ýmirheimi mother-pearl.

The little brat looks _right_ , riding high in their dam’s – their _mother’s_ – arms like this.

This precious, precious scene will likely cost Dr. Tioma, M.Sc., Ph.D. their niche among the humans, something that has been acting as their hidy-hole ever since the last war fought on Ýmirheim’s soil, ever since they lost their own firstborn and lastborn so senselessly in it. But this scene means that another parent will not feel what they have been feeling, no longer.

And it is worth the sacrifice.


End file.
